


Hey There, Short Stuff

by PoemJunkie



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-03
Updated: 2014-05-03
Packaged: 2018-01-21 17:25:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,536
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1558256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PoemJunkie/pseuds/PoemJunkie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ian loves that Mickey is smaller than him. Mickey is less thrilled.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hey There, Short Stuff

Ian shuffled down the hallway in boxers and a tank top, rubbing sleep from his eyes. He paused at the kitchen table, where Svetlana casually had her breasts out, feeding Yevgeny. Ian couldn’t help but stop and look, watching the baby suckle at her nipple, her other breast brazenly uncovered.

Svetlana quirked an eye brow at him, a cigarette on her lips, dancing above the head of the baby. Ian looked away and shuffled to the cabinet for some cereal. It wasn’t like he was interested in Svetlana’s breasts, anyway.

Ian pulled out a box of Cheerios and a bowl. Then he paused, grabbed the Lucky Charms and moved it up a shelf. He turned to take the milk out of the refrigerator and saw Svetlana looking at him with a raised eyebrow. Ian poured milk over his breakfast and plonked a spoon down in it. “What?” he asked.

Svetlana rolled her eyes and dislodged Yevgeny from her nipple to switch him to the other breast.

Ian sat down, holding his bowl of cereal close to his chest defensively, but didn’t say anything more. Svetlana still had her claw hammer in Mickey’s junk drawer.

Just as Ian was slurping the last of his milk, Mickey came out of the bedroom, his hair loose and falling in his face. He lifted his tank top to scratch his pale, flat belly. “Hey,” he grunted. He paused to drop a kiss on Ian’s mouth. “You take your Lithium?”

“Yes, Mother,” Ian muttered.

Mickey hesitated, then briefly dropped a hand on Yevgeny’s head. “Kid,” he said gruffly, pulling his hand back and detouring to the cabinets. He pulled down a bowl and then opened the cabinet looking for the cereal. He grunted when he spotted the Lucky Charms and reached for them. They were just a bit out of reach and he stretched up on his tip-toes, his shirt riding up a little to show a strip of skin.

Ian bit his lip as Mickey placed his hand on the counter to give himself an extra boost to grab the box. A grin broke over Ian’s face. Mickey finally grabbed the box and settled back on his flat feet with the box. Pouring himself some, he leaned against the counter to eat it, crossing his legs in front of him. He was wearing Ian’s pajama bottoms, and they pooled around his feet, with just his long toes poking out from the bottoms.

“The fuck you smiling at?” he asked Ian. Ian just smirked at him a little wider.

Svetlana muttered under her breath in Russian before standing up, pulling Yevgeny off her breast and dumped him in Ian’s arms. “You like little things so much, you watch baby,” she said, wrapping her robe back over her breasts and walking to what used to be Terry’s bedroom to wake up Nika so they could head to the Alibi for the day’s shift.

Mickey looked after her and then glanced at Ian, his eyebrows creased. “What’s that about?” he demanded.

Ian cradled Yevgeny in one arm, using the other to stretch over his head and scratch idly at his shoulder blade, smiling lazily at Mickey. “No idea.”

****************

Mickey huffed when he opened the cabinet. “Come on, people, no one else even eats Lucky Charms!” he muttered, feeling pissed. Every morning, he put the cereal back on the bottom shelf, and every morning, they were back up, one shelf too high and pushed all the way to the back where they were just out of his reach. He pushed up on his toes reaching for it.

Just as his fingertips were brushing the box, he felt a hard body pressing up against his back. Mickey opened his mouth in a grin, pushing his tongue against his bottom lip as he felt Ian’s mouth fasten against his neck.

“You feeling frisky there Copper Cock?” he said, arching his neck to give Ian better access. Ian grabbed his hips, pushing Mickey around roughly and pushing him up against the counter, crowding in his space. Mickey’s cock stirred in his pants. He loved it when Ian got rough.

Ian started to kiss him. Mickey smiled into his mouth. He loved kissing Ian. The two of them weren’t sweet, gentle kissers, most of the time. Usually, it was a war of mouths, fighting to see who could kiss more aggressively. Mickey moved his hands back to the counter to push himself up until he was perched precariously on the edge of the counter, spreading his legs to accommodate Ian in between them.

Ian scrambled at Mickey’s pants, pulling at his zipper until he released the curve of his cock. He pulled down his own zipper and released his own dick and Mickey reached for it. “Where’s the lube?” Mickey asked, bringing their cocks together so they could grind.

“Got it,” Ian grunted, digging in his pants and pulling out a little tube and a condom. “Turn around, baby.”

Mickey rolled his eyes. “Don’t call me baby, faggot.”

“But you so sweet,” Ian crooned. Mickey slugged him in the side, and Ian grunted, winded, despite the fact that Mickey only had limited leverage and couldn’t hit as hard as he wanted. “Turn around, asshole.”

“That’s more like it,” said Mickey smugly. He turned, bracing himself against the counter as Ian pulled his pants down. Mickey threw his head back and groaned as he felt Ian press two fingers into him. “Jesus, Gallagher.”

Ian bit Mickey’s ear. “Take it. You need three?”

“Don’t fucking talk about it, Gallagher, just give it to me,” Mickey replied, annoyed. Then, “Fuuuck,” as Ian pressed a third finger into him, rough and a little burning. Mickey spread his legs a little, leaning forward on his elbows. “Just get on me.”

Ian grunted, gripping the condom wrapping in his teeth and tearing it off. “You’re always so impatient, damn, Mick.”

Mickey just grunted. He liked the burn and stretch, liked feeling full and feeling Ian inside of him. Sometimes he liked it slow and sweet, too. He just liked cock in general, really, and Ian’s cock in particular.

Ian rolled the condom down his cock with one hand and pushed Mickey forward with the other, pushing into him slowly. Mickey let out a groan as Ian entered him, slotting together like two puzzle pieces, fucking perfect. Mickey reached down to grab his own cock, thrusting lazily into it while Ian thrusted into him from behind.

Mickey came first, spilling onto the counter, and shit, Mandy was going to kill him, but he could hardly care, with Ian picking up the pace to finish quickly after him. When Ian finally shuddered, and draped himself, smelling of clean sweat and aftershave, over Mickey’s back, Mickey just paused and tried to catch his breath.

Behind him, Ian backed up a step, expertly stripping the condom and tying it off, tossing it in the general direction of the trash can. Mickey stood up, feeling the pleasant soreness around his hips where Ian had probably left some slight bruising, and in his ass. He glanced momentarily at the pool of come on the counter but then shrugged and pulled up his sleep pants, tucking his cock away. The two of them would have to shower, but hell, by then they’d probably be ready to go again.

He opened the silverware drawer, digging around until he found a pack of smokes – Mandy hoarded them all over the house like a squirrel preparing for winter and inevitably forgot where she left most of them – and opened the pack. There was only a sad remaining butt in the pack, but he shrugged and shook it out anyway, lighting it up with the lighter that also occupied the now empty pack. He took a draw, and then out of habit, held it over his shoulder for Ian to take a hit.

He felt Ian’s chin rest on his shoulder while the taller boy took a drag, and then guided the cigarette back to Mickey’s mouth, because Ian had quit months ago, despite regular lapses.

Mickey grabbed a paper towel to clean up his jizz, and wondered idly if they should disinfect that shit, before remembering that this was the Milkovich house and they didn’t have any fucking disinfectant. So he gave it up as a lost cause and left the crumpled paper towel on the counter as a nice surprise for Kenyatta.

“Not bad, Firecrotch,” he conceded, tugging his shirt back into place and resuming his search for cereal. Before he could boost himself up on the counter to grab it, Ian slotted himself neatly against his back again, to reach around him and easily extract the box.

Mickey turned his head just enough to get Ian in his range of vision. “Thanks,” he said, taking a long draw off Mandy’s last cigarette. Mickey poured himself a bowl, put milk in it, and wandered to the table, before turning back to Ian, who was following his movements with a kind of smug, possessive pride. “Oh and Gallagher?” he added, with a casual smirk twisting his lips.

Ian raised a brow at him.

“Mess with my Lucky Charms again and I’ll fucking cut you.”

**Author's Note:**

> Think anyone would sign a petition to have Mickey call Ian Copper Cock on the show? No? Just me then. 
> 
> Also posted on my tumblr, here: http://poemjunkie.tumblr.com.


End file.
